


Beginnings

by barricadebutts



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Just getting around to posting this now, M/M, Modern AU, not connected to any sort of specific universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 17:30:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/764071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barricadebutts/pseuds/barricadebutts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Fight between Courfeyrac and Jehan. Beginnings of their relationship and how the other Amis react.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beginnings

      The weather in the city of Paris was beginning to cool off from the hot summer the city had been having. It was October and Jehan was walking with Courfeyrac on their way to the café Musain for one of the weekly group meetings of the ABC Society. Jehan was wearing a sweater that was one size too big with orange pumpkins adorning the front and a light brown scarf wrapped loosely around his neck. He had a pink notebook stuffed in his arms with his usual blue pen stuffed behind his ear.

     Courfeyrac looked more practical than Jehan with his deep brown jacket thrown over a beige long sleeve shirt with his black messenger bag to top everything off. He was absentmindedly going over his speech for theatre out loud and Jehan kept throwing side-long glances at Courfeyrac out of the corner of his eye. He had to admit, Courf’s stutters and mess ups were just about the cutest thing, but Jehan kept telling himself he had to get those thoughts out of his head. He was after all, dating Montparnasse and Jehan knew his boyfriend of nearly six months wouldn’t exactly approve of him admiring another man. Still, he couldn’t help but find himself becoming more and more infatuated with Courfeyrac as the days went on.

     “When is that speech of yours due exactly?” he asked Courf with a slight smile on his face.

     Courfeyrac, startled by Jehan’s comment, looked over at him with a wary facial expression. “Next week… I’m trying, I really am.” Jehan reached out and rubbed his shoulder consolingly.

     “I’m sure you are Courf, but wouldn’t it be a good idea to look at your script so you don’t memorize the wrong thing?” He vaguely wondered why his friend would be trying to practice without his script when he clearly didn’t know it very well.

     Courfeyrac looked over at him. “Well that’s not going to do me much good now since I left it at home on my nightstand…” he replied nonchalantly. Jehan shook his head in a defeated way. The two walked in silence for about ten feet before Courfeyrac bucked up the nerve to talk again. “So what was that poem you were working on earlier? It seemed a little more sappy than usual.” Courf chimed mockingly.

The poet’s face became red at the mention of his current work. “It’s for Parnasse. Our six month anniversary is coming up and I thought I’d write him a poem because I’m a little tight on money right now…” Jehan thought for a moment before continuing. “What’s the big deal, anyways? I write poems for practically everyone.” He almost seemed defensive which made him regret the statement almost as soon as it was out of his mouth.

     “Whoa there, Sparky. I didn’t mean to insult you or anything. I was merely wondering who the poem was for.” Courfeyrac threw his hands up in surrender which made Jehan wince.

     Looking up at Courf, his face took on an apologetic look. “That was completely unnecessary, sorry Courf. I just get defensive over Parnasse sometimes because not everyone sees him like I do. All they see is his cruel and hard exterior, but he’s more than that.” Jehan could see Courfeyrac begin to blush in awkwardness, which made him realize he was babbling about his boyfriend.

     “I believe you Jehan, it’s just… Will he appreciate it, the poem I mean? It’s just, going back to your whole rant about him, and how we don’t understand him like you do… he still doesn’t seem like the type to appreciate your poems like the rest of us do.” Courfeyrac meant every word he said, but he couldn’t help but feel a little guilty by the look that was forming on Jehan’s face. He thought he might have gone too far, but he wasn’t about to apologize for what he had said.

     “Of course he’ll appreciate it! He appreciates everything I do for him; I wouldn’t be with him if he didn’t!” Jehan’s voice was rising, and it was a good thing that no one was around to stop and stare at them. He stopped walking, causing Courf to stop and turn around. He didn’t walk back to Jehan though; he just stood there and watched the poet look mortified. “I can’t believe you would ever say something like that Courfeyrac. I mean,  _clearly_ you don’t trust my judgment enough to pick out a suitable boyfriend and trust my instincts. You know what? Why don’t you just stop worrying about my personal life and start paying attention to yours instead,” Jehan growled and walked past Courfeyrac, not waiting to see if he was following or not.

     Stunned, Courfeyrac just stood there as Jehan shoved past him. When he was halfway down the street, Courf called out to him. “You’re blowing this  _way_  out of proportion Jehan! It’s not like I meant to insult your relationship or anything!”

     Jehan didn’t turn around, sensing the hollowness in Courfeyrac’s apologies. He continued to walk towards the Musain, but when he was about a street away, he had a mental breakdown. Leaning up against the wall of an old stucco building, he went through the events of the last half-hour. What exactly had happened? Everything had been just peachy and then Courf brought up the damn poem. Sure, Jehan agreed that he was being irrational, but he couldn’t exactly agree with his friend that his boyfriend could care less about his poems and quirky ways. In the back of his mind, he wondered how far behind him Courfeyrac was and figured he wasn’t too keen on finding out.

     Pulling himself off of the wall, Jehan continued to walk to the café. He could almost feel the awkwardness of the impending meeting when Courf would arrive and sit across from him at the table they always gathered around.

     When he arrived at the thirty year old building, Jehan climbed the rickety stairs to the top of the second floor and pushed open the dry-rotted door. The Amis that were already there looked up as he entered, surprised that Courfeyrac wasn’t with him. Quickly and quietly, he found his seat and pulled out his phone.

     From across the room, Combeferre took out his own phone and sent a quick message to Courf asking him where he was. Courfeyrac responded that he and Jehan had gotten into a disagreement causing Jehan to storm off and that he was almost there. With new found understanding, Combeferre decided to drop the subject and warned the rest of the Amis via text.

     The tension between Jehan and Courfeyrac during the meeting was so great, that at one point, Grantaire exclaimed that they should just ‘kiss and make-up already’. Jehan had looked mildly horrified while Courfeyrac sat in his chair unbothered by the cynic’s remark.

     What would have been halfway through their meeting, Enjolras became exhausted at the periodic bickering and adjourned the meeting early. Everyone wearily walked downstairs to the nearly empty café to order coffee, leaving Courfeyrac eyeing Jehan from across the large table. Jehan paid him no attention as he scribbled words into his notebook.

     Finally giving an exasperated sigh, Courfeyrac spoke. “Look Jehan, I’m sorry about what I said earlier,” he began, trying to be somewhat sympathetic.

     Jehan didn’t look up at Courf when he replied. “You know you’re not. You don’t have to admit defeat and give in just to prove a point,” he said icily.

     Pinching the bridge of his nose, Courfeyrac squeezed his eyes shut. Opening them slowly, he sighed and began. “Okay, maybe you’re right; maybe I don’t think that Parnasse is the greatest guy. Maybe I don’t think that he appreciates you enough, but maybe you’re truly happy with him; I don’t know.” He took a breath and continued on, “But if there’s one thing I  _do_  know, it’s that he isn’t right for you.”

     The pen in Jehan’s hand faltered but kept writing. “How the hell do you know who is or isn’t ‘right’ for me?” He pressed angrily.

     Feeling the need to backpedal slightly, Courf tried again. “Well maybe I don’t  _know_ who is or isn’t right for you, but I sure as hell know that he doesn’t deserve you.” Jehan’s pen skidded to a stop as he looked up at Courfeyrac with a nonplussed expression on his face.

     Making a rash decision, Jehan stood up quickly causing his chair to scrape across the floor. He bent halfway across the table to where Courf was half standing now and grabbed his face, pulling it towards his. The kiss was unexpected but needy. Courfeyrac was surprised for about a tenth of a second and then gave in, cupping Jehan’s face in his hands.

     It was over almost as quickly as it begun though. Jehan pulled away, alarmed at what he’d just done. Fumbling for his notebook and pen, he grabbed his scarf off the back of his chair and hurried to the door.

     “Jehan! Wait, don’t leave,  _come on!_ ” Courfeyrac tried to no avail.

     “Courf, you have  _no_ right!” Jehan practically yelled, certain the Amis could hear every word downstairs.

     Jehan was practically out of the door when Courfeyrac hurried up from behind him to stand between him and the stairwell. Surprised, the little poet dropped his book as Courf kissed him. Jehan didn’t protest this time, but instead, grabbed the taller man’s jacket, pulling him closer than he already was.

     Courfeyrac moved back into the room, pulling the door closed with a thud. Turning around, he pushed Jehan up against the door, placing kissed up and down his neck and jaw line. After several minutes of going back and forth, Courfeyrac placed his forehead against Jehan’s, both of them breathing moderately.

     “Do you believe me now?” Courfeyrac asked with a tint of humor in his voice.

     Jehan looked up at Courf and smiled. “Shut up and kiss me,” he murmured barely loud enough for the other man to hear as he pulled him back towards his lips.

~~~~~~~

    

     Back downstairs, the rest of their friends could hear the gist of their arguing through the poorly sound proofed ceiling. Joly sat with Bossuet’s hand in his, concerned with the periodic yelling that was going on. They could hear Jehan’s voice get louder than they had all heard it get in a while. There was the sound of what was probably a chair scraping against the floor, and then silence.

     Combeferre looked up from his book to Feuilly with a quizzical expression on his face. “You don’t think…” he began, but his question was interrupted by the onset of another bout of arguing. They could almost hear what was being said now so the door had to have been opened. When the yelling stopped, they heard the drop of a book onto the floor and the door shut with a thump.

     Feuilly looked at Combeferre with a somber expression. “I think so, and it’s about damn time something happened too.” Enjolras looked over at the two exchanging ideas and just rolled his eyes. The Amis had their suspicions about Jehan and Courfeyrac who insisted they were just friends since Jehan was dating Montparnasse, but the periodic flirting between the two was always apparent.

     What was maybe five minutes later, footsteps came pounding down the stairs. Jehan, whose face was practically the color of a tomato, appeared alone walking through the café hurriedly with his phone out and in his hands. He ignored his friends’ calls and pushed his way out of the nearly empty building. The friends all broke in into chatter when he was out the door, but silenced once more when Courfeyrac walked quietly into the room.

     “Well?” Grantaire asked from his chair near the window where he was watching Jehan hurry down the street with his phone pressed to his ear.

     “Well, what?” Courf replied back, confused.

     Grantaire became exasperated. “Well, did you fuck him?” The few people in the café turned and looked at him alarmingly, but he took no notice.

     Courfeyrac blushed and put on a face that basically said ‘you’re retarded’ but even that slowly changed into a smug grin. He showed Grantaire his middle finger as he went to up to the counter to order a cup of coffee and graciously accepted the cynic’s kiss that was blown in his direction. Courfeyrac couldn’t help but laugh and shake his head, replaying the last twenty minutes in his head over again. 

**Author's Note:**

> So I just realized I haven't been adding things to this account and only to Tumblr. So here I am, posting things to this account. I hope you all like it.


End file.
